


Devils roll the dice

by Storybelle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU Fic, Angels, Background Destiel, Kidnapping, M/M, Protective Gabriel (Supernatural), Set in a world where Gabriel didn't die in season 5 and stayed, Witches, sam gets hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29559663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Storybelle/pseuds/Storybelle
Summary: They didn’t expect the Winchesters to have an archangel.The coven thought they'd go down in history as the ones to finally beat the Winchesters. That was their first - and last - mistake.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 118





	Devils roll the dice

They didn’t expect the Winchesters to have an archangel.

If they'd known, they’d have done it all differently. Precautions, shielding, anti-angel warding...but as it was, they didn’t know. The coven tied up a bleeding Sam Winchester to the wall and left him there. There’ll be time to make him bleed more later; maybe remove an eye or a finger. His brother finding his mutilated dead body would be good punishment for the hunters trying to kill the coven. 

They’d known hunters had been after them and they’d laughed. Hunters have tried before and they all failed. The witches always made it into a game when their activities inevitably attracted the eye of some local hunter. They’d laughed then too, when they’d heard of suspicious official looking men lurking about asking questions. 

But they’d never gotten a chance for games. The hunters were quicker, smarter and they had help. Supernatural help, the kind that knew lore human hunters just didn’t have. That was when Vivienne had figured it out, that these men were the Winchesters. But it was too late, and they’d killed one of theirs. Vivienne was too late to save Clara, and the sight of Sam and Dean standing over her fallen sister was almost too much to bear. So it was decided that the coven must take their pound of flesh. 

They would have prefered the older one, Dean. Vivienne personally would have loved to carve up that pretty face and stitch up that mouth with thick, black thread. Anything to make him quiet. But they weren’t stupid enough to risk the wrath of Dean’s pet angel. Castiel may be a pathetic excuse for an angel, all doe eyes and fading grace, but it’s not a fight the coven was willing to risk. An angel is still an angel, even running on worn out batteries. Especially when this particular angel is known for a hard jaw and a swift blade when it comes to Dean.

So they hadn’t taken Dean. Simple. Easy. It had been a matter of separating the two of them - the whole seedy underbelly knows how lethal the two are when they’re together - and luring Sam to somewhere out of the way. They’re the same, humans, every one. Pretend to be some sweet thing in danger and they’ll come running, with little thought for their own safety. Vivienne’s mouth twists into an easy smile, watching blood trickle down Sam’s chiseled face. They’d go down in history as the witches who finally beat the Winchesters. When Dean arrives to rescue his brother, they can put him under their control. 

But it wasn’t Dean Winchester who found their abandoned factory. 

Priscilla goes up in flames before any of them can react. One moment she’s there and the next sparks are catching on her hair, her dress, her eyelashes. She goes up like a light, her desperate shriek piercing through the dim dark space. It’s not enough to wake Sam, not after the beating they put him through. There’s just ash, all that’s left of what was once their sister.

“Alright,” comes a bored voice from behind them. “Who’s next?” Vivienne whirls around, unsure what to expect. Either the eldest Winchester has tricks that they didn’t anticipate or this is something else. Something she didn’t expect.

Their intruder lounges against the grey stone walls, tossing something long and silver up and over, again and again. It doesn’t matter how high he tosses it, he catches it every time. Vivienne scans the space quickly - every door and window has been bolted shut and sealed, warded with the strongest magic they know. And somehow, he still got in here.

“Who are you?” Vivienne hisses, as the rest of her sisters gather behind her. But they’re wary, spooked, more than happy to let her take the lead. 

He’s nothing special. Not tall, not short, not large, not thin. A perfectly regular looking human. There’s a curious quirk to an attractive mouth, waves of soft honey coloured hair, the faintest glimpse of collarbones peeking out from his half unbuttoned white shirt. In any other situation, this is a human that Vivienne would lure to bed, followed by a particularly vicious hex that might leave him impotent or bleeding from his eyeballs, depending on her mood.

But he’s broken in here like he has the right and for that, Vivienne will do far worse.

“I said,” the stranger says, raising his voice so that it echoes off the walls. The acoustics had been delightful when they’d been carving up the hunter. Now it’s just grating. “Who’s next?”

Patricia - one of her more impatient, ruthless sisters - stalks forward, intent on blood and pain and burning flesh, but he shrugs her off with a casual flick of the wrist. Her body collides painfully with the wall and the crunching sound indicates that he threw her hard enough to break bones. She lands in a crumpled heap and doesn’t move. Vivienne has done that move so often before - usually with men who have displeased her - that she knows Patricia won’t be getting up again.

Control is slipping away from Vivienne, like water through her fingers. It sets off a strange fluttering in her stomach. She doesn’t like it, doesn’t want it. She has control at all times. That’s how her coven is so strong, and has lasted all of these years. But now, without any warning at all, the plan has swiftly and thoroughly fallen apart. 

“Look,” the stranger says, pushing himself off of the wall and striding calmly towards them. Now that two of their sisters are down, the rest aren’t quite so keen to rush into battle. They clamor behind Vivienne, as though they’re hoping that she, somehow, will stop this terrifying creature. The price of being the oldest, and the leader.

She doesn’t know how. She doesn’t even know what he is. Not human. And yet, it appears that he’s come for Sam. 

“Look,” the man repeats, when he’s a few feet away. From here, Vivienne can see the gleam of his eyes, the rich whiskey colour of his irises. She can also see the firm set of his jaw, despite the amiable smile. “You can either give me the Sasquatch over there…” He points at Sam, with a well-manicured finger. “And we all go our separate ways, or I keep burning you alive like pretty witchy shish-kabobs. Thoughts?”

This is no offer. They’ve gone from a coven of glory and victory, the ones who would rid the world of the Winchesters forever, to being spoken down to by a man who, at best, only comes up to Vivienne’s chin. 

“He’s our prize,” she says coolly. Her heart judders in her chest but she doesn’t let it show, not for a second. “The Winchester stays.” The man’s mouth sets in a firm, hard line. She catches his golden eyes flick over to Sam, who makes a very fine bleeding figure against the wall. They took the time to trap him - carving him up is their right. She won’t hand him over to the first upstart who thinks he can escape the hard work by poaching from them.

“I won’t ask again,” the stranger says and outside, a sudden crack of thunder rips through the air. But Vivienne holds her ground.

“You think you can just take him from us?” she challenges, because that’s the last thing that she can do. He has power, and plenty of it. But so do they and if they can catch him off guard this won’t be much of a fight. 

But the stranger’s smile goes from amiable to outright cocky in an instant. He even has the nerve to give a huff of derisive laughter.

“You bet I can,” he says. And if she’d waited, if she’d bothered to look, she would have seen the dark glitter in his eyes. She would have realized that his confidence wasn’t unfounded. That they were all dead from the moment he set foot into their space. Perhaps even from the moment they’d taken Sam Winchester.

For the first time in several centuries, there’s a trickle of fear down Vivienne’s spine. Something has gone horribly, horribly wrong. 

Evelyn dies before she has taken more than two steps, burning up like Priscilla. But she doesn’t fade to ash, the stranger not feeling quite so kind this time. She falls to the ground, faintly smoking, her eyes two dark craters. 

He shrugs off Samantha’s curses like water, like they were little more than school-ground charms. He even has the nerve to look bored as he does so, like a powerful coven of witches is just something to pass the time with. His expression doesn’t change even as he breaks her neck.

Tara manages to shove a blade into his chest, right up to the hilt. Her smile of triumph lasts all of two seconds, right until she looks up and sees that little cat-like smile. He wraps a hand around the handle and tugs it out, only to return it to her. She doesn’t even have time to scream as he drives it into her heart.

Leah and Ivy both take that long silver weapon to the chest. He drives it up through Leah’s ribs first and the light-show is both beautiful and horrendous. It’s like lightning under her skin, rising out of her eyes and mouth, before he withdraws it and her body falls to the ground. Ivy fares no better - she tries to run and it lands in her back, as though he’s aimed for some invisible bullseye. Vivienne didn’t even see him throw it; one moment it was in his hand and the next it’s flying through the air. 

At the end, it’s just Vivienne. Alive, bleeding, gasping on the ground. Regretting every action that led them to this moment. They were stupid. Far too confident. 

She’s pulled upright by her neck, and dragged into a sitting position. Her forehead is dripping blood into her eyes but she can see the unconscious Sam to her left, still chained to the wall. This is her only satisfaction, how badly they must have wounded him, if the flames and pain and dying weren’t enough to wake him. The stranger won’t have much chance for fun with him.

She doesn’t have long to indulge in this thought however. His fingers dig into her throat, surprisingly strong, making her look straight into those honey coloured eyes. Something in them takes away her will to fight, pins her down like a wolf staring at it’s prey.

“Now,” he says casually, as though they’re having a conversation over coffee and not her sisters’ charred and beaten remains. “You’re going to tell me exactly what you’ve done to him and believe me, I’ll know if you lie.”

This should have been a clue. If she’d been thinking enough - or had enough blood left in her body for her brain to work correctly - she’d have put the pieces together to work out exactly what this terrifying creature is. But as it was, she didn’t and couldn’t. 

“What do you care?” she croaks out and the fingers dig in further still. The pain makes her want to cry out but she doesn’t have the air. She scrapes her hands futilely in the dirt, trying her best to hide the agony in her eyes. Eventually, he eases the pressure enough for her to take a jagged, gasping breath.

“I’ll ask again,” he says, unwavering. “What have you done to him? What spells?”

“No spells,” she says, and shrieks as he calmly breaks a finger. “We only cast spells to hurt him! We haven’t cursed him, I swear!”

He studies her carefully and then nods. To her surprise, he releases her and she slumps back to the floor, coughing. He stands up and slides the weapon out of his sleeve. She watches as he catches the hilt and thinks, not for the first time, how it’s like an extension of himself. 

“I could let you go,” he says softly, considering the idea. “As a warning. A message.”

“To who?” she says, pulling enough saliva to her lips for the words to escape. But he doesn’t answer. Instead, he turns away from her and walks towards Sam. He drops to a crouch in front of the half-dead human and places the blade on the ground, so that he can cradle Sam’s face. She can’t see what he does but the next moment Sam is awake, panicked and flailing. He’s been unconscious for quite some time, and the last thing he’ll truly remember with clarity is the dark parking lot when they took him. But the man swipes a thumb over his jaw and murmurs something soft. Sam’s eyes focus and the fight leaves him.

“You came,” Sam says, looking like he doesn’t believe it himself. The stranger smiles and it’s so different from the feral grins that he’d shown them before. This is soft, affectionate, loving. And that’s when Vivienne understands how badly they fucked up.

He didn’t come to claim a prize. He came to claim what was his. And Sam Winchester, without any question or doubt, is his. 

They hadn’t known. They’d thought that his brother was the only Winchester with something eldritch and ancient on a leash.

“Of course I came,” the man says, as though Sam is a total idiot. As if there was never any doubt he would come for Sam, whether it be through fire, storm or apocalypse. “You and your brother are dumb as fuck, do you know that? Stop running into dangerous situations without backup!” Sam winces, looking sheepish.

“You guys were busy,” he mumbles and then seems to notice for the first time that he’s chained up. The stranger doesn’t bother taking his eyes off of Sam’s face as he reaches up and rips them away from the wall. He shatters the manacles around Sam’s wrists, almost as an afterthought. 

“Thanks,” Sam says and tries to get up. This is clearly a mistake as he slumps back, eyes rolling back in his head with the pain.

“Idiots,” the man repeats, but there’s no venom in his words. He reaches for Sam again, sliding one hand under waves of dark hair to cradle his jaw, slide against his neck, while the other rests on Sam’s thigh. It’s so intimate that Vivienne watches with interest. She should be trying to crawl away, with what strength she has left, but she’s not sure that she can. Everything hurts or feels broken and she suspects she wouldn’t make it past the warded door before he caught her. So she stays, mouth full of blood, and watches.

Sam makes a gentle sound, something halfway through pain and pleasure. The man removes his hands and Sam is whole again, cuts healed, bones mended, blood stopped mid flow. It’s the final piece.

“Angel,” she whispers, and the creature himself rises from the floor to face her. She should have seen it before. The blade, the raw power, the eyes like molten gold. The certainty in his strength, the crackle in the air like lightning before a storm. He’s not like Castiel at all. In their eagerness to avoid Dean, they attracted the ire of something far worse. How interesting that Samuel Winchester, the Vessel of Lucifer, managed to capture the love and loyalty of this warrior of judgement and vengeance. 

“Gabriel,” he confirms. He bends to retrieve his blade, and to offer Sam a hand. He doesn’t let go, even when the hunter is standing. Vivienne can’t help the bitter cackle that escapes, even though it causes her broken ribs to groan with pain.

“Archangel,” she amends. “How far you’ve fallen.” She flicks her eyes to the human to his left, so there’s no mistaking her meaning. Sam winces, even though she knows he must no longer be in pain. Interesting. 

Gabriel, however, shows no offense at her words. If anything, his mouth quirks in a strange half-smile. 

“Everyone seems to think that,” he muses, before his eyes flick away from her to the man beside him. “Everyone but me.”

“Gabe,” Sam says, and it’s a plea and a protest all at once. Gabriel’s feelings are returned in full, Vivienne can see that, hear that with just that little word. Sam feels as though he’s not enough for the archangel and every time it’s pointed out is like knives into the hunter’s heart. He knows what he is, and every supernatural creature around knows what he is. Dirty and blood-thirsty and ruined. The Winchesters are damaged goods and it was one thing for a seraph to fall for one. An archangel turning his back on heaven for Lucifer’s meat suit is something more scandalous entirely. No wonder the coven didn’t know. They never could have guessed such a twist.

“No, Sam,” Gabriel says, with a furious flash of those golden eyes. Such ethereal eyes. His brother, Castiel, has them too; bewitching blue eyes that swallow you whole. Maybe it’s a requirement for a vessel. Maybe it’s the ancient creature, the crackle of grace, behind them. “We’ve talked about this.”

“She’s right,” Sam says quietly, to Vivienne’s extreme satisfaction. He looks like a kicked puppy, mouth set in a miserable line. “Everyone thinks it, you said so yourself.”

“And I know it’s not true,” Gabriel retorts. “You’re good for me. You’ve changed me. You, Sam, no one else.” Sam looks on the verge of arguing again, even though it’s pointless. Vivienne can tell that this is a fight they’ve had countless times before, and one that Sam always loses. 

Gabriel takes a step into Sam’s personal space and grabs a fistful of the hunter’s blood-stained shirt to pull him down. The kiss that follows is one that makes Vivienne tremble at the sight of it, because it’s one that is so clearly not meant for someone else’s eyes. It’s desperate and needy, and Sam doesn’t resist at all, sinking into it and pulling the angel - an archangel! Willingly! - into his chest. She doesn’t miss a hand winding into golden hair, a flash of teeth, a badly restrained moan. When they pull apart, breathless, she can understand how Sam always loses the argument. 

“I love you,” Gabriel says, fiercely, placing a hand on Sam’s cheek. “How can that be bad for me?” It’s too dark and she’s too far away to clearly see, but she’s certain by the twist on Sam’s mouth, the way he ducks his head that this statement brings tears to his eyes. Out of overwhelming love or guilt, she doesn’t know. In his position, she’d certainly feel shame and regret for what she was doing to this celestial being. His brother certainly does, carrying the shame of his love and wearing it on his sleeve.

“Fallen,” Vivienne repeats in a whisper. Fallen indeed. She didn’t know that angels were capable of this. This sort of love is so raw and vulnerable and Gabriel doesn’t make any attempt to hide it. That sort of affection isn’t encouraged in heaven, if they have it at all. 

They turn to look at her, still pressed so intimately together, she’d bet that they can feel every breath. With a sigh, Gabriel slithers out of Sam’s grip. He’s not unbothered by the kiss, she’s amused to see. She wonders if they’d be tempted to fuck right here, Sam pressing Gabriel against the steel walls. 

“Don’t mind me,” Vivienne says, as lasciviously as she can manage. Not particularly well, given all of her broken ribs, but she tries. “I like a show.” Gabriel smirks right back at her. He’d been such a hedonistic creature, if she recalls his antics correctly. He may be tied to one human but she’d still guess that their sex life is something to behold, something that would make her mouth dry. She’s seen many creatures lost in passion, but never an angel. At any other time, she’d stop to picture it, the angel baring his neck for Sam to mark, fingers dragging down skin, and the hunter buried in a borrowed body. She thinks that Dean and his angel probably make love. Not these two. 

“No, thanks,” he says, casually, bending to scoop his blade up off the floor. “I don’t really share.”

“I gather,” she says ruefully, as the blood flows out of her at an alarming pace. She doesn’t have the strength to heal herself, even if they do leave her be. She’s not sure she even wants to be left here. Her sisters are gone and her mistake was the one that got them all killed. 

“What do we do with her?” Sam asks curiously. But she can tell by the white knuckles around the angel blade that Gabriel has an answer in mind. She took Sam and he’s a creature of unrelenting vengeance. Love has softened him but it can’t truly change what he is.

When the blade comes, it’s almost a relief.

**Author's Note:**

> Really self indulgent fic I started when I got stuck on other projects. Set in an AU world where Gabriel lived and stayed with the boys.


End file.
